Hell. Even now the words had the power to reach through time and make him feel a powerful sense of self-disgust. He’d done the right thing in pushing her away so forcefully, but seeing her heartbreak so clear on her face had made him feel like the worst kind of person. It was a feeling that had never really let up.
He crossed back to his desk, moving the mouse to stir his computer screen to life. The photograph was there, as large as it had been a moment ago, but it took on a whole new importance now.
He’d thought the boy looked familiar, but not in a million years had he considered that he might be the father.
And Annabelle the mother.
Shock began to morph into something else.
Anger. Disappointment. Disbelief.
Why had she kept this from him?
‘You’ll always regret what we did? Well, I’ll never forgive you for that. Just get out. Get out! Leave me alone. Don’t ever contact me again.’
Had she been so angry she’d decided to keep their son from him? He’d wanted to push her away for good, but maybe he’d gone too far. Was this some sick form of payback? He couldn’t believe it, yet the facts were there, staring right back at him. Annabelle had borne a child, and Dimitrios would bet his fortune on the fact he was the father.
Dimitrios ground his teeth together, his jaw set in a forbidding line as he reached for his desk phone and buzzed through to his hard-working assistant.
‘Have the jet fuelled. I need to get to Sydney. Immediately.’
CHAPTER ONE
‘THAT’S OKAY. I ate earlier.’
At six, Max was far too perceptive. His huge eyes lingered on Annie’s face, as if studying her to see if it was true or not.
‘I’m fine,’ she assured him, curving her lips into a smile. ‘Eat your dinner.’
He returned his attention to the plate in front of him, doing his best to hide the disappointment at the fact he was eating meatloaf for the third night in a row. He speared a piece with his fork, sliced it and lifted it. She watched him, her lips pursed.
‘Are you working tonight, Mummy?’
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She cast a glance at the laptop propped on the other end of the table. ‘A little.’
He nodded, spearing another piece. Pleasure replaced worry. He was growing so fast, eating so much. It was just a growth spurt. He’d settle down soon enough. And hopefully the grocery bills wouldn’t bankrupt her in the meantime.
She reached behind her and switched off the kitchen light, then took the seat beside Max, her hands curling around her mug of tea. The warmth was a balm.
‘You can work now if you need to.’
Her heart turned over in her chest. ‘I’d rather talk to you.’
‘But then you’ll have to stay up so late.’
She frowned. ‘Why do you say that?’
He lifted his shoulders. ‘You do, right?’
These last few nights she had been burning the candle at both ends. There’d been extra work to do in the firm and she’d put her hand up for it, glad of the additional hours. It wasn’t the most highly paid work but the ability to do it from home meant she could be flexible for Max. When he’d been a baby, that had been imperative, but even now, with him at school, the number of holidays children took meant she needed to be able to care for him. There was no one who could help her—no nearby grandparents, aunts or uncles—and the cost of childcare was prohibitive.
‘Sometimes. I like it, though. How’s the meatloaf?’ She winced at the conversation change—the last thing she wanted to do was remind him of the boring dinner he was being made to eat. She kept a bright smile pinned to her face, though. He matched it, nodded then reached for his drink.
He was so like his father.
Pain lanced her. She had to look away. Worry followed pain. A month ago, Max had asked about him. Not like when he’d been a younger boy and he’d become aware that children often had two parents. That had been an innocent, ‘Do I have a daddy?’ question that had been easy to palm off. This time, it had been laced with meaning. ‘Who’s my daddy, Mummy? Why haven’t I met him? Does he live near us? Can I see him? Doesn’t he love me?’